Solving Puzzles
by SamiCausti
Summary: When Daniel leaves crossword puzzles unfinished, it always means something's wrong, and Natalie isn't going to let him sleep until he sorts out the problem. One-shot, almost-shipping Daniel and Natalie (can you ship a hallucination?)


**A/N: Disclaimer - I know next to nothing about schizophrenia. Anything I put in here that Natalie did or that he noticed about her I based on how they interact in the show, so sorry if this has some inconsistencies as compared to the actual disorder. Also I started writing this before the end of the season, so obviously this is before he figured out how things really went down with Natalie.**

"Dammit, Natalie, can't it wait till morning?" She was sitting on his bedside, blonde hair a bit rumpled and the neckline of her blue silk pajama top pulled a little sideways. He reached for the lamp and Natalie blinked in the yellow glow as it came on. She sat back a little, pulled her hand back from his shoulder as he shoved himself up into a slightly more upright position. "Alright, I'm awake. What?"

"You didn't finish your crossword." Daniel blinked.

"You're waking me up at –" he glanced at the glowing green hands of his analogue alarm clock – "two in the morning because I didn't finish a puzzle?" He knew, if he thought about it, that she wasn't real. If someone came in the room, they would see only him, hair more tousled than usual, sitting up in bed and talking to the empty air. He knew, if he thought about it, that it was his own mind that had woken him – but he preferred not to think about it.

"You never leave a crossword half-done." Natalie had her slightly concerned expression on, brows raised and her typical half-smile missing. Daniel raised one hand and then dropped it against the blanket impatiently.

"So I didn't feel like finishing this one." She looked patently skeptical.

"Daniel –"

"What? There was one I didn't know. I didn't feel like working on it anymore." He didn't really expect that one to fly with her, but hell if he wanted to discuss his first unfinished crossword in ten months with Natalie. Especially not at this ungodly hour of the morning. She scooted a little farther onto the bed and folded her arms across her chest disbelievingly.

"A word you didn't know – so you went to bed? Usually that has you sitting up all night searching for answers." He looked past her stubbornly. She was right, of course. He absolutely hated leaving puzzles undone. It drove him crazy – well, crazier. Those things kept him stable, organized, helped him focus. He didn't leave them undone – if he did his mind was edgy, unsettled. Which was probably exactly why Natalie was here now.

"I have a class in the morning," he argued, almost sullenly. "I need sleep. Should be sleeping right now – can't you just lie down and let me rest?" She chuckled and shook her head.

"Dr. Daniel Pierce is worried about his sleep and a morning class?" She paused expectantly, but he didn't answer. She sighed. "Tell me about the crossword, Daniel." He met her eyes again.

"Nothing to tell." She raised an eyebrow and he looked away again, rubbed one hand over the scruff on his jaw, and then dropped his hands back to his lap. "I didn't like the puzzle." She didn't look convinced

"Slide over." His rational mind tried to tell him, even as he bounced and scooted sideways, that it was patently ridiculous to move over to make room for a hallucination. Generally he wouldn't – but Natalie was different. He shoved the rational voice away as she settled against the headboard. For a moment they sat in silence, and then Daniel glanced sideways at her and gave a half-nod of concession.

"It – the damn thing was shaped like a heart. It was just stupid." Natalie's expression was almost comical, mouth partly open and blue eyes blinking.

"Because it was – you've been doing crosswords for years. You know they do things for holidays, and it's never bothered you before." Daniel let out a quick, impatient breath through his nose.

"It's Valentine's Day – what kind of holiday is that anyway?"

"It's a celebration of love."

"No." One of his hands rose almost of its own volition, fingers extended in a gesture that usually came out when he was in the classroom explaining a new concept to his students. "It's a stupid holiday – it shouldn't even _be_ a holiday. Celebration of love –" he rolled his eyes – "celebration of the day a guy was murdered for his religious beliefs, and we _celebrate_ it with pink hearts and an inordinate amount of chocolate? It's absolutely ludicrous."

"You didn't think so twenty years ago." He stared.

"I didn't – Natalie, twenty years ago I thought I was going to be a _rock star_. I was a _kid_. That's not even relevant." She settled back against his pillow, her posture suggesting a horse digging its heels in to the dirt more than it did a woman getting comfortable in bed.

"Isn't it?" She crossed her arms and lifted her chin a fraction of an inch. "Tell me, what was the word you were stuck on?" Daniel blew out an impatient breath.

"If I knew that I wouldn't be stuck. I'm tired. I need to be awake in the morning. Let me sleep, won't you?" She chuckled.

"You'll be fine in the morning. What was the prompt, genius?" He turned his eyes away from her and studied the ceiling mutely.

"Daniel…" She poked him in the ribs and he instinctively flinched sideways and turned an irritated glare on her. She looked unperturbed. He rolled his eyes.

"Fine. 'In love with a lie.' Ten letters. Last letter's an _m_, fourth letter's a _u_."

"Simulacrum." Of course it was. That was the answer he'd come up with as well. A vague resemblance; an image; a shadowy representation of something real. Like most so-called love he'd seen in his life – one person obsessing over their idea of what another person was like, despite that idea generally being a highly romanticized, idealized concept that bore no resemblance whatsoever to the actual person. Then they were both disappointed when each saw who the other really was.

"No, it's not," he said flatly. Natalie let out a sound between a laugh and an exasperated snort.

"Why not?" He didn't answer and she shifted sideways, making the mattress bounce a bit, and tipped her head sideways, giving him the look that always made him think she knew exactly what was going through his head and wanted him to say it out loud anyway. _She's a product of your crazy mind, _he reminded himself. _Of course she knows what you're thinking._ He didn't like to remember that she wasn't real. She was too comforting to have around. Kept him thinking straight. Kept him from feeling lonely. _Irony at its highest, isn't it?_ "Come on; you can't tell me you didn't come up with that one. So why that word? What's wrong with it?" He knew. Didn't want to answer, but he knew perfectly well why he'd crumpled the page, flung it in the corner, and gone to bed. Natalie's hand on his shoulder made him finally meet her eyes again.

"It doesn't matter. I'll finish the damn puzzle. Will that get you off my case?" Natalie chuckled.

"Oh Daniel…I won't be off your case as long as you keep me around." That was more true than he liked to think about. It wasn't like he could exactly control whether she showed up or not. That was part of the delights of paranoid schizophrenia – the hallucinations showed up apparently as they pleased, on the whim of some uncontrollable dysfunction of his brain. He could always go back on his meds, of course. That would get rid of the hallucinations. All of them – including Natalie – would be gone. He'd have quiet and peace. He wouldn't be so dependent on his routine. He'd be sane – appear sane, at least. But he kind of liked keeping Natalie around. She helped him think, kept him sane – _That's a joke, _he reminded himself with a wry quirk of the mouth. It didn't matter. The drugs made him fuzzy. Inhibited his ability to focus. He couldn't work when he was drugged. Couldn't think. He wasn't going to try the meds again. So Natalie would be on his case forever; Daniel could handle that. He smirked.

"I'll hold you to that," he muttered. She smiled, but didn't lose the challenging gleam in her eye.

"I'm sure you will. You know the word is 'simulacrum'." He glared at her.

"Okay the word's simulacrum. Happy now?"

"I don't know. Are you?" Daniel blew out a deep breath and stared back up at the ceiling, away from her searching gaze.

"Am I happy?' He shrugged. "I haven't thought about it; does it matter?"

"Why did you quit the puzzle?" He didn't want to be having this conversation. He hadn't wanted to finish the puzzle and now he wanted to sleep, not sit up in bed and discuss his breaking a consistent habit over a single word on a stupid crossword puzzle. He slid down a little farther and closed his eyes.

"I didn't like the word. It's a bad prompt and a stupid word. I'm going back to sleep."

"The prompt was vague, maybe, but you got it. What's wrong with the word?" He didn't answer. "Come on, Daniel. Think about it." He kept his eyes closed. "Hit a little too close to home?" Her voice dropped to a near whisper and his breath caught in his throat for a moment.

"No. It was just a dumb puzzle." They had been over a long time ago. A very long time ago. He'd realized his mind was falling apart and he'd ended it – Natalie deserved better than a neuropsych professor whose mind was rapidly crumbling into complete chaos. So that had been it. Never mind that his feelings hadn't been exactly persuadable; he'd followed what reason he had left. Never mind that he'd been more or less convinced they were the same as before when she'd first shown up at his door. And now… She wasn't real. That was the important thing. Just a hallucination. The real Natalie was probably somewhere enjoying a happy life with someone else. The thought made him want to break something. He pulled the blanket higher up around his shoulders and turned away from her a bit. Yeah. It hit close to home.

"You sure about that?" He pretended he'd fallen asleep. Like he could fool his own hallucination into going away. She let him pretend for a while and then laid her hand on his shoulder again. "Daniel…"

"Alright it hits home. Hell, Natalie, you're a hallucination – figment of a diseased mind. Satisfied now? Can I sleep?" He knew it. Just sometimes he was able to forget it for a time, persuade himself to just enjoy having her around, even if she was nothing but a product of his own psychosis. He preferred not to really think about it. Natalie was silent so long he almost hoped she'd gone away.

"You should take your meds again," she said. He didn't want to hear it.

"I can't think when I'm drugged. We've been over this."

"You need to be stabilized." He stayed quiet, still. He had no real argument, but that wasn't going to change his mind.

"I'm functional. I have a routine; I have Lewicki. I don't need meds." Natalie circled the bed and climbed back up in his line of vision.

"How about relationships? You alienate your students, avoid other faculty…you've been ignoring Kate, too." Daniel huffed.

"I teach perfectly well, deal with my coworkers without a hitch –" She raised one eyebrow and he rolled his eyes. "They haven't fired me yet. I know where the line is." He left it at that. Natalie waited a moment and then, apparently realizing he wasn't going to keep going, frowned.

"You don't even know your students' names."

"There are two hundred students; I can't memorize all of them." She laughed, sounding less mirthful and more skeptical than usual.

"Do you know any of them?"

"They're…I know some of them." She looked dubious. He tried to call up a name – any name. He drew a blank. Tom – there had to be a Tom. That was a common name, right? He sighed and raised both hands in a brief gesture of frustrated defeat. "Alright maybe I'm not friends with my students. Do I have to be?"

"You need normal relationships, Daniel. They're important – and you're lonely." She looked so damn concerned all over again. He grunted.

"I am not lonely. If you hadn't noticed, there's this little thing called 'paranoid schizophrenia' – it doesn't make _normal relationships _a very viable option." This was possibly the most exhausting night he'd had in quite a while. Tomorrow he was going to be a wreck. "I need sleep, Natalie." She was frowning again, shaking her head.

"Schizophrenia doesn't preclude relationships. You know that." He slid down a little more, till he could pull the covers up to his chin and close his eyes.

"Maybe in my life it does," he muttered. He felt Natalie's cool hand rest on his head.

"You should take your meds," she murmured, "and you should get some meaningful human interaction." He didn't answer. "You like Kate."

"Of course I like Kate." His voice was muffled by the blankets up by his mouth, but he didn't try to fix that. "She's smart and she doesn't look at me like I'm a pathetic piece of broken humanity."

"You know it's more than that." He kept quiet. Natalie let the silence continue for a while – long enough for him to consider the idea despite fighting it off the entire time. "Why don't you do something about it, Daniel?" He closed his eyes for a long moment. The pressure of her hand against his head didn't let up. He hadn't figured she'd go away, but it was always worth a try. He finally let out a deep breath and shifted to let his head rest in her lap.

"Because it's complicated," he finally admitted. "And because…hell, I fell in love with you years ago. I guess I'm just bad at moving on."

"Daniel…" He sighed.

"I know it's not healthy. But dammit, can't you just let me sleep? You got me to be honest. Now let me pretend again for a while, hm?" She didn't answer for a long time. He reached across her to flick the lamp back off, closed his eyes again. He was almost asleep when he heard her voice.

"Okay." Maybe he didn't hear her voice. _Of course you didn't hear it._ His rational mind whispered that in the morning he would wake up lying in an awkward position, with a stiff neck, and there would be no Natalie. But, for the moment, real or not, it was nice.


End file.
